//------------------------------// // Chapter Sixteen // Story: Compliance // by Mal Masque //------------------------------// Chapter Sixteen A day had passed and the hour of departure had come. Yamira strode confidently into the hangar bay, her sword and bolt pistol resting on her hips and a significantly clearer mind rattling in her head. To her own pleased surprise, among the fleet of docked transport ships used by the Merodi, a sizable battlebarge of the Imperium’s own grand design lay ready for takeoff. Among the hurrying dockworkers and engineers, Yamira spotted a few red-robed techpriests uttering prayers to the Machine Spirits and a cluster of Sisters of Battle, no doubt acting as the Ecclesiarch’s personal guard. She spotted the pointed white tip of his hat amongst the heavily armed Sororitas from several yards away. Yamira marched over to the gathered Ministorum representatives, weaving around cargo crates and low-hovering transports until she was within earshot of the Ecclesiarch and his coterie. “- worst thing I had ever laid eyes on,” Decius was explaining to one of the helmeted Sisters. “To think that human hands actually created something like that, and that I was exposed to it on a live Voxcast. Horrible, positively horrible.” He took notice of Yamira’s arrival with a smile, while the Sororitas seemed to tense up. “Ah, Lady Commissar, I’m glad you have arrived.” “Good morning, Your Grace,” Yamira said, lightly returning the smile with a simple nod. “Today’s certain to be an eventful day.” “Certainly should be.” Decius said, lightly thumbing his aquilla on its chain about his wrist. “I will admit, I am both nervous and excited to be engaging in these negotiations and speeches.” He glanced to the Sisters behind him, his voice dipping into gruffness. “The armed security aren’t providing me any ease.” “Your protection is our highest priority, Your Holiness,” said one of the helmeted Sororitas. Like the rest of her Sisters, she was dressed in stunning yet imposing black and white power armor, sporting sacred fleurs on her epaulets and on the mantle of her helm, though she did seem shorter and sound younger than the rest of the zealous women armed with bolters and glaring under yellow lumens. Decius sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Protection is fine, but you have no need to wave guns at absolutely everything that passes by,” Decius said. A dock worker passed by as he spoke, an abhuman of some sort with a physical appearance resembling some type of large lizard. The Sororitas immediately raised their guns and took aim, resulting in the worker hissing and scampering off. “Like that!” Decius groaned and turned back to Yamira. “I should best provide introductions. Commissar, these are Sisters of the Order of the Generous Violet, and this,” he gestured to the shortest Sororitas in the more decorated armor, “is Canoness Sacchari Belladonna, who will be acting as head of my guard.” “Commissar,” the Canoness said, only slightly nodding. Yamira returned the nod, but she was somewhat caught off-guard by just how young the Canoness sounded. It may have been the metallic ringing of her voice through the vox-grill of her helm, but she sounded like a recent graduate of a Schola Progenium. “Worry not, we will be overseeing His Holiness’ protection throughout this entire tour. No foul xenos, mutants or heretics will so much as get within smelling distance of him. Duty until death!” The proclamation was echoed by the other Sisters, much to the Ecclesiarch’s dismay. Their revelry was broken by them turning their guns on another presumed threat, one a bit more familiar to Yamira. “Stay back! Back, beast!” “Seriously? Every time?!” shouted Amber Dust, hooves raised overhead in surrender. She lowered herself after nearly being scared out of her pelt and shot a glare at the armored Sororitas. “I just want to talk to the Manclessiarch about finalizing some details of this trip, get those guns out of my face!” The Sisters refused to lower their weapons, all glaring furiously at the little pony. Decius seemed to have completely resigned at this point, leaving Yamira to be the responsible one. “Leave her be, Sisters,” Yamira instructed. “She’s harmless, and an asset to this tour.” The Sisters obeyed and stayed their guns, though the air of hostility around them was still suffocating. Amber smiled in relief, but her smile dipped into a frown when she realized it was Yamira who gave the order. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the half-cooked Commissar. “Yamira,” she said flatly. “Ambassador Dust,” Yamira replied, trying to match her tonal neutrality. “... How is Captain Mangonel?” “Fine,” Amber quickly said. “How’s your face?” “Recovering,” Yamira replied. The two stared at each other, the harshness of Amber’s normally soft features glaring hard at the stern-faced semi-features of Yamira. After a good while of matching dagger-glares, Amber broke off and turned to Decius, her hoof clutching an information tablet. “So, Mancclesiarch Decius,” Amber said. “I wanted to go over some information with you regarding this system we’re visiting, Erdun V. If the information is right,” she glanced down at the tablet. “It is a… Shrineworld? A planet dedicated to the worship and memory of a prominent figure?” “Yes, that’s quite right,” Decius said. “Many are quite beautiful and pleasing to the eye. Although,” he glanced over to Yamira, a confused look on his wrinkled features. “I can’t quite recall whom it’s dedicated to, nor which Cardinal presides over it.” “Says here that it’s dedicated to Cardinal…” Amber looked through her notes again. “Carmine Clupeid? The Cloister of the Flighty Waterfowl watches over it, and it’s them we will be meeting with. Should be a straightforward mission, we’ll end up back home in time for tea and cupcakes at the Emporium.” “Sounds splendid, Ambassador,” Decius said, chuckling. “I believe we shall set off then. Lady Commissar, you’ll ride with me. Canoness?” Sacchari and the Sisters of Battle stood at attention. “Let’s make for the bridge of The Glorious Light.” “YES SIR!” the Sisters shouted. They stamped their white metal boots and marched in unison towards the ship. Decius glanced over to Yamira with a light smile, gesturing towards the boarding ramp of the ship. Yamira was about to follow, but she spotted Amber trotting past out of the corner of her eye, a hard look on the Earth Pony’s face. “I will join you in a moment, Your Grace,” Yamira said. “I have something I must quickly do.” Decius nodded and turned to follow his departing guard. Once the Ecclesiarch was out of earshot, Yamira heel-turned and quickly followed after Amber. “Amber Dust, wait! I need to talk to you-” “No, I don’t think so, Yamira,” Amber spat, turning around with a heavy scowl on her face that stopped Yamira in her tracks. “You’ve already spoken enough with your actions, and the blood on the street.” She stamped her hoof on the ground and furrowed her brow even further. “I’m only doing this job because Eve insists I’m the best ambassador for the job, but love and tolerance can only have so many limits. So YOU,” she jabbed her hoof at Yamira. “Keep your distance, and I’ll keep mine.” Yamira was barely able to open her mouth before Amber decided the conversation was over. The little pony turned about and started to trot towards the nearby docked transport Skiff… and bumped right into the jeans-wearing leg of a very startled Cage Jameson. “Hide me,” Cage urged, bending down and grabbing Amber by her face. The smoker looked absolutely terrified, he only had one cigarette in his mouth! Yamira had seen this man face down Genestealers armed to the teeth with stolen contraband with a smile, and yet something had him sweating bullets. “Wash wrong?” Amber asked, her speech a bit slurred from squished cheeks. Cage looked up from the pony and spotted Yamira, dropping Amber and hurrying over to grab the Commissar’s collar. “Yamira! Oh, thank god!” he exclaimed. “You can probably protect me, right?! Wait, no, she’ll lose it too.” He fortunately let go before Yamira could threaten him for touching her uniform. Cage began hastily pacing back and forth, flicking his lighter on and off with one hand, while hastily puffing his cigarette with another. “Maybe I can just fake a stomach cramp and get called off this mission? No, then she’ll break into my place and try to nurse me back to health. Think, Cage, think!” His thinking was cut off swiftly when he tripped over Amber and landed on his face. “What’s going on, Cage?” Amber asked, slightly pinned under Cage’s astray leg. “Who’s ‘she’?” Yamira narrowed her eye and pursed her half-burned lips. “I think I know….” she muttered. Cage hurriedly stood up, his cigarette crumpled flat against his cheek. He spat it out and stuffed another one in his mouth from his bandolier. “I’m gonna THROTTLE whoever decided to assign me to security detail with her,” Cage exclaimed. “I don’t think I can handle another minute of her completely crazy, batshit insane, overbearing, super-psychotic-” “Oh, Cagey~” A voice sang out, shrieking like harpies descending upon unexpected prey, a shrill sound that sent shivers down the Commissar, smoker, and Ambassador’s spines. It was as though the cold chill of winter’s wind came rushing through the dockyard, and brushed against them with biting nips. Worst of all: Yamira knew this voice. Cage barely had a moment to flee before his arms and torso were restrained by pale hands garbed in black sleeves. “Why’d you run off from me, Cagey? I thought we were going to board the ship together~” A smile forced its way onto Cage’s desperate face as Delilah Morreo nuzzled into his back, the brim of her obscenely large black sunhat jabbing into the side of his face. “Hey there, Delilah,” he said. “I wasn’t running off, I just needed to…” He quickly glanced between Yamira and Amber, sweat cascading down his face like a rainstorm. “Clarify a few things with the two ladies here about the trip!” Delilah turned her head towards Yamira, her neck audibly snapping as she met eyes with the Commissar. “Ambs, Bacon-Face, this is Delilah, my-” he coughed as he attempted to free himself from Delilah’s hold. “Girlfriend. She’s with,” Cage managed to break free with a puff of smoke, resulting in Delilah falling on the floor with no boyfriend to cling onto. “The Security Division. She’s gonna be helping keep everyone safe in case any shit goes down.” Delilah hopped back onto her feet and curtsied, although her smile seemed to have been forced. “So nice to meet Cagey’s friends,” Delilah said. Cage tried to walk away, but the instant he lifted his foot, Delilah just trapped him in another hug. Yamira thought he heard one of the smoker’s vertebrae snapping. “Don’t you two worry, I’ll keep my dear sweetie Cagey-wagey safe with my LIFE!” And now Yamira thought she saw Cage’s eyes shoot from his sockets. “Lilah, air,” Cage gasped. “Oh goodness, so sorry!” Delilah released Cage and he dropped on the ground like a sack of oxygen-deprived potatoes. She looked over at Yamira, and her expression once again was as painted as a child’s doll, and gave the same look to Amber. “So, what’s this clarification you were going to provide? Since I’m involved in this little trip, I think I should be in the know.” Amber took a few steps away from the overbearing woman in the wide hat and reiterated the information she gave to Decius moments ago, regarding Erdun V and the Cloister of the Flighty Water Fowl. Cage slowly pulled himself up and walked over to Yamira’s side, wheezing a bit and fumbling with his lighter. “Perhaps save the cigarette for later,” Yamira suggested. “When you don’t sound like the clogged vox grill of an asthematic Kriegsman?” “It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Cage wheezed, putting a pair of cigarettes in his mouth and lighting up. One long drag in and relief came to Cage as quick as the ends fizzled out on his smokes. “‘Sides, I’m gonna need these while Delilah’s here.” He flicked the two spent butts to the ground and plucked two more from his holster pack. “I think I go through a pack and a half every time I go on deployment with her.” Yamira nodded in understanding, once more looking to Amber and Delilah conversing. It was peculiar to see Amber comporting herself in a far more refined and ambassadorial manner, maintaining eye-contact and speaking precisely and coherently. A certain far cry from the bumbling mare Yamira met the first day who nearly broke out into tears at the sight of her scars.  “So we’ll just be there for a few days,” Amber explained. “The Manclessiarch will talk with the Cloister there to ensure the Merodi intend no harm, we sign the peace agreements, and then we’re back here, easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. Provided we,” Amber scraped at the ground with her hoof. “Don’t run into any trouble. Like what happened on Armastus.” “I doubt we will face another threat like the Genestealer Cults on Erdun V,” Yamira said, maintaining her half-scowl alongside burned features. “Shrineworlds are among the safest planets in the galaxy, alongside perhaps Paradise Worlds. It should be a rather simple transition.” Amber regarded Yamira with a very curt nod, hostility still evident in her eyes. A klaxon alarm sounded across the docks, lights shining from the Ecclesiarch’s vessel as more dock workers and Engine-seers flitted about for final prayers to the machine spirits. “We should be off, the Ecclesiarch insisted that I join him.” “I will be riding The Sun Singer, along with other Merodi operatives,” Amber said. “Which includes you two.” She pointed at Cage and Delilah with one of her hooves. She turned back to Yamira. “We will see you planetside, Commissar.” Yamira did not get a word in before the pony ambassador trotted off, taking Cage and Delilah with her. Alone on the deck, Yamira was left with little but her thoughts, and even those were drowned out by the roaring of engines. She simply adjusted the brim of her hat and made for the barge. The Ecclesiarch awaited her, and she would not turn away from the orders of her people. The planet of Erdun V was a pale orb hanging in the sky, a sandy dot in an ocean of starry darkness. Yamira was surprised to see the illustrious Shrineworld of the Cloister of the Flighty Waterfowl appear so… bland and desolate. Many worlds in the Imperium are, of course, but there at least is some sort of visual on the Hives or even the Shrine itself from the orbital view. Here, it was completely covered in a blanket of pale mist. Yamira stood idly in the command deck of the barge, alongside the Ecclesiarch and his retinue of Sisters of Battle, her face impassive as she stared at the planet from above. “We will depart for the surface in ten, Your Grace.” Yamira said. “Excellent, most excellent.” Decius merrily said, rubbing his hands together. The Ecclesiarch was far too eager to depart for this mission under the Merodi flag; such enthusiasm should better have been held for more important matters for the Imperium and its glory. Yet here they were, about to act as envoys for those from beyond with no questions asked. “Canoness, have we received word from the Cloister on the surface?” “Negative, sire,” Sacchari piped up. “The Astropaths have heard nothing, but claim that there is a pall over the planet itself. Perhaps some latent storm that is affecting communication.” Yamira furrowed her brow some, her scars creasing slightly as she gazed upon the planet. A lack of communication was not unheard of, technical issues were abundant on worlds such as this, but for the arrival of His Holiness on a world dedicated most to the Imperial Cult? That was cause for many an alarm. Decius, however, seemed to pay no mind. “No matter, it should be resolved once we are inbound to the planet itself.” Decius said. He turned to Yamira, thumbing the holy book that hung about his chest like a fine ornamental decoration. Must have been a newer copy, compared to Yamira’s own pocket version of the Lectitio Divinitatus. “Lady Commissar, shall we depart?” Yamira snapped to attention and nodded firmly. “Good, very good. Canoness, make way for the landing craft.” The Sororitas shouted their affirmations and prayers, then marched off out of the deck. Decius lightly tapped Yamira’s arm and gestured in suit. The Commissar and the Ecclesiarch both left side by side, walking down the gantry, menials rushing past them to fulfill various duties across the ship. “Are you prepared for this, Your Holiness?” Yamira asked. “Of course I am prepared for this, Commissar Kalov,” Decius said. He thumbed his robes and presented himself proudly. “This is not my first time giving an ecclesiastical sermon to a planet to reaffirm the mission of our people to the masses, and Emperor willing, it will not be my last.” Yamira grimaced, though her scars hid it well. “Yes… the mission of Merodi Universalis.” Decius’s proud smile faded as well, his posture slackening along with his large hat. “I am not sure how they will react to the notion of the Ecclesiarch-” “Mancclesiarch.” “Mannclesiarch of the Adeptus Ministorum itself, promoting the ambitions of Xenos and Heretics as though it were the word of the Emperor Himself.” Decius opened his mouth some, opting to bring some insight to Yamira’s thoughts, but shook his head instead. “You’ve much to learn about the workings of our new world, Commissar,” he said. “As I did when the Emperor first spoke his decree to the galaxy.” Yamira slowed her steps some, glancing down proper at Decius. “The decree?” “Yes, the Decree Reductive.” Decius solemnly said. “By word of the Man-Emperor of Mankind, the organizations of the Adeptus Ministorum, the Ecclesiarchy and the God-Emperor’s Holy Inquisition, were to undergo extreme restructuring from within and without. Those that failed to comply were to be disbanded outright, and condemned to a fate not spoken of in the Lex Imperialis itself.” Yamira nodded. She recalled that some odd years back, a message was sent across the entire bulwark of the Imperium, claiming to be from the Emperor’s own voice itself, ordering the disbanding of the organizations that were as much part of the body of the Imperium itself. The result was a massacre on Terra perpetrated by zealot members of the Inquisition believing that the heart of the Imperium was tainted by heresy, a mass slaughter of the citizens and an attempted hostile takeover by the Inquisitorial representative. Yamira couldn’t recall his name, but considering he was attempting a siege on the Golden Palace, it was best his name be stricken from history. The zealots were cast into the Warp by one of the Emperor’s own Sons; those that remained were deemed loyal and willing to heed the Emperor’s words and were given a chance to restore their organizations. Among those was Ecclesiarch Decius XXIII. Who now was heeding the words of aliens and heathens. “A dark fate indeed,” Yamira muttered. After more aimless wandering throughout the ship, they arrived at the shuttle bay, where the Canonness and her Sisters awaited at a Stormhawk transport ship, ready to travel to the surface. Sacchari immediately took over Yamira’s position, escorting the Ecclesiarch as gently as though she were handling a child, and secured him in his seat. Yamira followed suit, joining the heavily armed Sororitas onboard the ship. Buckled in and secured in place, they were ready for transport. “Pray to the Machine Spirits for safe travel,” Decius intoned. “And pray that we too shall have a successful mission in reconnecting with our people.” A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ rang out across the shuttle as the boarding ramp closed, sealing all within the metal box. The engine roared to life as the Enginseer conducted final prayers to the Machine Spirit of the vessel. With a gust of power and mechanical might, the shuttle took off and rattled loudly as it disembarked from the barge. Yamira gripped her harness restraint tightly as the shuttle rocked and shook wildly about, a sentiment shared by many of the Sisters under their impassively staring white templar helms. Once they reached into space properly, the rumblings had ceased, and Yamira let off an eased breath. Takeoff was always the hardest part, followed closely by the landing. “I can see our accompaniment through the viewport,” one of the Sisters said, pointing to one of the panes of peleglass that sat beside their heads. Yamira peered through, spying the crescent-shaped ships of the Merodi in their view. She frowned and clicked her teeth slightly. Amber and the others were onboard, but she could still feel the hostility the little pony gave off all the way from here. It didn’t feel right, and yet she was still Xenos. Such animosity was natural, as were the heathens. Yet why did Yamira still feel bad? “Entering into the planetary atmosphere now,” the Enginseer announced from the cockpit. The view from space began to fade as the ship entered into a thick pale haze, obscuring all in a fine cloud. Suddenly, klaxon alarms sounded from the cockpit, the shuttle jostling ever-so-slightly. “Alert! Alert! Electrical interference is affecting the controls of the shuttle! The Machine Spirit! It screams in agony! By the Omnissiah, something is- AAAAUGH!” The Enginseer screamed as a pulsating surge of energy ran through the ship. Yamira shot her head to the now open door of the cockpit, the familiar scent of smoke and burning flesh assailing her nostrils. The ship rumbled again, and slowly began to tilt. Decius exclaimed in peril, tugging repeatedly at his restraints to free himself, while the Sisters did the same. A low groan ran through the vessel, metal creaking and bending as heavy winds tore at its hull. Yamira tore herself free of her restraints, throwing herself to the floor as gravity went against her. They were in a free-fall. “Emperor help us, we’re going to die!” Decius screamed, his oversized hat floating just slightly over his bald head from the long drop. Yamira refused to let her death be something like this. She forced herself onto her feet and staggered her way to the cockpit, where the sound of sizzling skin and frayed wires resounded with the screams of terror. The Enginseer was slumped back in his seat, chest exposed from an internal explosion that had fried his mechanical parts and set flame to what little flesh remained, his face frozen in a pained wail as he stared up with unblinking lumens. Uttering a prayer to the Emperor, she shoved the dead pilot over and made her way to the controls. None of the lights were on: the console itself had erupted in some sort of electrical surge, and everything was completely inert. Through the forward viewport, a vast wasteland lay before them, an endless field of craggy canyons as far as the eye could see. And they were coming to it fast. “Everyone!” Yamira shouted. “Pray to the Emperor and hold on tight!” She took hold of the helm, relieved to find it still moving in her grasp, albeit as stiff as a long-dead corpse. She’d only flown a scant few times in her life, but flight was a necessity for a Commissar needing to act in an emergency. This certainly qualified for one of those. She pulled hard on the wheel, attempting to force the winds upwards to slow their plummeting towards the surface of Erdun V. The Stormhawk resisted greatly, with audible groans and moans from the rending metal. The horizon leveled out and the descent seemed to slow. Yamira nearly gave herself praise, but a loud snapping and ripping noise broke her attention. The ship pivoted to the side, and Yamira let out a pained yell as she was flung into more of the inactive equipment. One of the wings was torn clean off, there was no attaining balance here. All that could be done now… was brace.